The Landower Legacy (13 page)

We sat down at one of the tables in a corner. I studied the room with its small leaded windows and heavy oak beams. There was an array of horse brasses round the big open fireplace. It was a typical inn parlour and some two hundred years old, I guessed.

Maisie brought in the cider.

“Are you busy?” asked Jago.

“We’ve two people staying—a father and daughter. They’re here for a day or two. It keeps us busy.” She smiled at me. “We don’t reckon so much on staying-guests. Most people stay in the town and we’m too near Liskeard. ‘Tain’t like the old days! ‘Tis more an in-and-out trade, if you do know what I mean.”

I said I did and she left us to sample the cider.

“No need to hurry,” said Jago. “Old Jem will be a little while yet. Just think … We’ll probably never come here again. Let’s make the most of it.”

“I don’t want to think like that. I was beginning to forget that I had to go home soon.”

“We’ll think of something,” promised Jago.

Just at that moment the guests came into the inn parlour—a man and a young woman who were clearly father and daughter. They both had the same sandy hair, alert light eyes and scanty brows. She might
have been a year older than Jago. They gazed round the parlour and as the girl’s eyes immediately fell on us they kindled with interest.

“Good day to you,” said the man. He had an accent which I did not recognize, except that I knew it did not come from near these parts.

We acknowledged his greeting and he went on: “Cider good?”

“Excellent,” replied Jago.

“We’ll have some then. Gwennie, go and order it.”

The girl rose obediently and the man said: “You don’t mind if we join you.”

“Indeed not,” said Jago. “This is a public room.”

“We’re staying here,” said the man.

“For long?” asked Jago.

“Just a matter of days. So much depends on if what we’ve come to see turns out what we want.”

The girl returned and said: “It’s coming, Pa.”

“Ah,” he said. “That’s good. I’m as dry as a bone.”

Maisie brought in the cider.

“Are you all right, sir?” she asked of Jago; and he told her that we both found the cider excellent.

“You just let me know if you want more.”

“We will,” said Jago.

Maisie went out and Jago grinned at the man. “It might be a little potent,” he said.

“That’s so, but it’s good stuff. Do you live round hereabouts?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know a place called Landower Hall?”

I opened my mouth but Jago flashed me a warning look.

“Indeed I do,” he said. “It’s the big house of the neighbourhood.” He threw me a mischievous glance. “Though some might claim that the more important house is Tressidor Manor.”

“Oh, that’s not for sale,” said the girl. “It’s the other one.”

Jago looked stricken for a moment. Then he said brightly: “So you are interested in Landower Hall?”

“Well,” said the man with a laugh, “it happens to be the reason why I’m here.”

“You mean that you are considering buying the place?”

“Well, a good deal will depend … It has to be suitable.”

“I think they’re asking a high price.”

“It’s not so much a matter of the brass. It’s finding something that suits us.”

“You come from the north, don’t you?”

“Aye, and thinking of settling in the south. I’ve still got interests up there, but there are those who can look after them for me. I fancy a different life. I plan to be a squire of some sleepy estate right down in the country … away from everything I’ve ever known.”

“Do you think you would like to be right away from the home you have known?” I asked.

“Can’t wait to get away from it. My lawyer thinks this might be just the thing for us. What I’ve always wanted. Stately old home … somewhere with roots. Gracious, you know. Now that Mrs. Arkwright’s passed away—that’s my wife—we’ve wanted to get away, haven’t we, Gwennie?” The girl nodded. “We’ve talked about it. Gwennie will be the lady of the manor; I’ll be the squire. The climate’s softer down here than where we come from. I’ve got chest trouble. The doctor’s advice you know. This seems just the place.”

“Have you seen this mansion yet?” I asked.

“No, we’re going tomorrow.”

“We’re so excited,” said Gwennie. “I shan’t sleep a wink tonight, thinking of it.”

“You like old houses, do you, Miss—er—Arkwright?” asked Jago.

“Oh, I do that. I think they’re wonderful … standing there all those years … just facing the weather and getting the better of it. Think of all the people who’ve lived there. The things they must have done. I’d like to know about them … I’d like to find out.”

“You’ve always wanted to know what people were up to, Gwennie,” said Mr. Arkwright indulgently. “You remember what Mother used to say. She said you had your nose into everything. ‘Curiosity killed the cat,’ she used to say.”

They both smiled and then were a little sad, no doubt remembering Mother.

“I have heard that that house has not stood up so well to the weather,” said Jago.

I added my comment to his. “/ heard that a great many repairs had to be done … a complete restoration, some say.”

“Oh, I’ve gone into all that,” said Mr. Arkwright. “Nobody’s going to pull the wool over John Arkwright’s eyes. My lawyers are smart. They’ll assess what’s to be done and that will be taken into consideration.”

“So you have already considered that,” said Jago somewhat forlornly.

“I heard the place was falling down,” I said.

“Oh … it’s not as bad as all that,” put in Mr. Arkwright. “It’ll need a bit of brass spent on it … no doubt of that.”

“And you don’t mind that?” asked Jago incredulously.

“Not for a place like this one. Roots in the past. I’ve always wanted to be part of such a place.”

“But it won’t be
your
roots,” I pointed out.

“Oh well, we’ll have to do a grafting job.” He laughed at his own joke and Gwennie joined in.

“You are a one, Pa,” she said.

“Well, I’m right. I’ll be the squire. That’s what we want. And don’t you like the idea, eh, Gwennie?”

Gwennie said that what she had heard of the place made her feel it was just what they were looking for. “There’s a hall with a minstrels’ gallery,” she added.

“We’ll have dances there, Gwen. That we will.”

“Oh,” she said, raising her eyes ecstatically. “That’ll be …” She sought for a word. “It’ll be famous … really famous.”

“You won’t be afraid of the ghosts, of course,” said Jago.

“Ghosts!” cried Gwennie in a tone which clearly implied that she was.

“Well, there are always ghosts in these old houses,” went on Jago. “And they get very active when new people take over. All the Landower ancestors …”

Mr. Arkwright looked in some concern at Gwennie. “Oh, come on, Gwen. You don’t believe in that nonsense, do you? There’s no such thing, and if there are one or two … well, that’s what we’re paying good money for. They won’t hurt us. They’ll be jolly glad we’ve come to keep their home still standing.”

“Well, that’s one way of looking at it,” said Gwennie, with a faint smile. “Trust you, Pa.”

“Course it’s the sensible way. Besides, ghosts give a bit of tone to an old place.”

Gwennie smiled but she still looked uncertain.

“Happen it is the place for us,” said Mr. Arkwright comfortingly. “Reckon our search is well nigh over.”

Jago rose. “We’ve got to get back to the smithy. One of our horses lost a shoe. We came in to taste the cider while we were waiting.”

“It’s been nice talking to you,” said Mr. Arkwright. “Come from these parts, do you?”

“Not far away.”

“Do you know the place well?”

“I know it.”

“Lot of rot about ghosts and things.”

Jago put his head on one side and shrugged his shoulders. “Best of luck,” he said. “Good day to you.”

We came out into the open and made our way to the smithy.

“Can you imagine them at Landower?” I asked.

“I refuse to think of it.”

“I believe you frightened Miss Gwennie.”

“I hope so.”

“Do you think it will do any good?”

“I don’t know. He’s only got to see the place to want it. He’s got what he calls the ‘brass,’ and he’s got his lawyer and he’ll drive a hard bargain, I don’t doubt.”

“I pin my hopes on Gwennie. You really scared her with the ghosts.”

“I rather thought I did.”

We started to laugh and ran the rest of the way to the smithy.

I had agreed to meet Jago that afternoon. He looked excited and I guessed that he had one of his wild plans in his mind and that he wanted to talk to me about it. I was right.

“Come to the house,” he said. “I’ve got an idea.”

“What?” I asked.

“I’ll explain. First come along.”

We put our horses in the Landower stables and went into the house. He took me in by way of a side door and we were in a labyrinth of corridors. We mounted a stone spiral staircase with a rope banister.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“This part of the house isn’t used much. It leads directly to the attics.”

“You mean the servants’ quarters?”

“No. The attics which are used for storage. I had an idea that there might be something of value tucked away there … something which would save the family fortunes. Some Old Master. Some priceless piece of jewellery … something hidden away at some time, perhaps during the Civil War.”

“You were on the side of the Parliament,” I reminded him, “and saved everything by changing sides.”

“Not till they were victorious.”

“There is no virtue in that, so don’t sound so smug.”

“No virtue … only wisdom.”

“I believe you’re a cynic.”

“One has to be in this hard world. However, we saved Landower, whatever we did. I’d do a lot to save Landower, and that’s been the general feeling in the family throughout the ages. Never mind that now. I’ll show you what I’m driving at.”

“Do you mean you’ve really found something?”

“I haven’t found that masterpiece … that priceless gem or work of art or anything like that. But God works in a mysterious way and I think He has provided the answer to my prayers.”

“How exciting. But you are as mysterious as God. You are the most maddening creature I know.”

“God,” he went on piously, “helps those who help themselves. So come on.”

The attic was long, with a roof almost touching the floor at one end. There was a small window at the other which let in a little light.

“It’s eerie up here,” I said.

“I know. Makes you think of ghosts. Dear ghosts, I think they are coming to our aid. The ancestors of the past are rising up in their wrath at the thought of Landower passing out of the family’s hands.”

“Well, I’m waiting to see this discovery.”

“Come over here.” He opened a trunk. I gasped. It was full of clothes.

“There!” He thrust his hands in and brought out a pelisse of green velvet edged with fur.

I seized it. “It’s lovely,” I said.

“Wait,” he went on. “You’ve seen nothing yet. What about this?” He brought out a dress with large slashed sleeves. It was made of green velvet and very faded in some places, but I was sure the lace on the collar had once been very fine. There was an overskirt which opened in the front to reveal a petticoat-type skirt beneath. This was of brocade with delicately etched embroidery. Some of the stitching had worn away and there was a faintly musty smell about the garment. It was not unlike a dress one of the Tressidor ancestresses was wearing in her portrait in the long gallery at the Manor, so I judged it to be the mid-seventeenth century. It was amazing to contemplate that the dress had been in the trunk all that time.

“Look at this!” cried Jago. He had slipped off his coat and put on a
doublet. It was rather tightly fitting, laced and braided, of mulberry velvet, and must have been very splendid in its day. Some of the braid was hanging off and it was badly faded in several places. He took out a cloak which he slung over one shoulder. It was of red plush.

“What do you think?” he asked.

I burst out laughing. “You would never be mistaken for Sir Walter Raleigh, I fear. I do believe that if we were out of doors in the mud you would spread your cloak for me to walk on.”

He took my hand and kissed it. “My cloak would be at your service, dear lady.” I laughed, and he went on: “Look at these hose and shoes to go with it. I should be a real Elizabethan dandy in these. There’s even a little hat with a feather.”

“Magnificent!” I cried.

“Well, you in that dress and me in my doublet and hose … what impression do you think we’d make?”

“They’re different periods for one thing.”